


A Day Unlike Any Other

by madam_lit_nerd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Controlling Family, Crime Family, FBI Agent Dean, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Organized Crime, Slow Burn, art curator Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madam_lit_nerd/pseuds/madam_lit_nerd
Summary: It started out a day like any other...but then again, that’s always how those days start out: no warning, no anticipation. Just a regular day.Somehow, it would end up a day unlike any other, and that was completely because of Dean.Alternately: The one where Castiel is trapped by his family’s lies, Dean is trapped by his job’s deceptions, and they help each other find the truth and finally break free.





	1. Chapter 1

It started out a daylike any other...but then again, that’s always how those days start out: no warning, no anticipation. Just a regular day.

First there was the appointment with Balthazar so Castiel could appraise a new piece he’d “stumbled upon in that tawdry little neighborhood downtown, you know the one.” After careful examination, Castiel offered an estimate, Balthazar tried (unsuccessfully) to hide his delight, and then it was on to the meeting with Anael.

They discussed the gala already fast approaching at the end of summer, ending with, “I really think we should consider inviting the Carlsons, Castiel. They’re new money, eager to invest in something different...and I’ll be sure to include your plus one.”

And then, once the guest list had been (yet again) suitably rearranged, and Castiel had been granted his plus one (even though he vehemently assured her that he did not need a plus one), it was on to brunch at the club with Aunt Hester and the ever-tardy Meg.

“We’ll go ahead to the table; I doubt she’ll be here for a little while yet,” Aunt Hester decreed, and Pierre was showing them back. 

As they glided past the already seated diners, Hester would incline her head this way and that, deigning to greet some, purposefully ignoring others, but she never actually stopped. Castiel, close behind her, slowed for the occasional firm clap to a broad shoulder or gentle squeeze to a soft hand; just enough to acknowledge, never enough to engage. It was the dance he’d been taught since childhood, the ritual he’d honor until his last breath.

Pierre guided them to their usual table by the front bay window, the one with the marvelous view of the lake that Castiel never actually got to enjoy. Pierre pulled out the seat across from the window for Hester, leaving Castiel to face the restaurant and diners. Not that he minded; it would provide sufficient distraction from Hester’s predictable criticisms of life.

“How is Balthazar today?” Hester asked as she settled her girth into the heavily padded chair. Castiel made sure she was adequately situated before taking his own seat.

Immediately, a cranberry spritzer was set for Hester, an orange juice (with just a little extra splash of vodka) for Castiel. He nodded his thanks to the young waitress, who blushed up to her roots and hurried away to see to her other tables. No one bothered to take their orders; they probably already had their usual dishes nearly ready in the back.

“He was in excellent spirits when I left,” Castiel reported, not bothering to question how she knew he’d met with Balthazar that morning. He’d learned long before that there was little that escaped Hester’s watchful eye. Even without children of her own, she’d somehow managed to claim the coveted position of matriarch within the family tree, and Castiel knew from experience that it would be unwise to question her.

“I should think so; it’s not every day one finds a Rothko just sitting in some back alley shop,” she muttered, her tone derisive. “The way we treat our masters...unacceptable.”

At Castiel’s flat look, she sighed heavily. “I know, my boy, I don’t have to tell you. You are the expert, after all.”

Castiel offered a wan smile, but didn’t comment further. Hester would find something else to discuss on her own, if she wished. But of course, she always wished, and immediately launched into a critique of the wait staff at The Grand the night before.

Castiel nodded in agreement as she disparaged over the young waiter who “actually offered me a Gewürztraminer for my pairing. A Gewürztraminer!” but even as his head nodded, his eyes flitted over to the corner table.

Castiel had noticed the handsome man immediately when they’d been shown to their table, of course. It would be impossible not to notice him in his sharp-cut blazer and bright green tie, matching eyes as green as the foliage that dotted the restaurant, his mouth soft and pink and perfect. His hair was parted sharply, not a single hair out of place.

He sat in the back corner, alone, glancing through a newspaper. If he was expecting someone else to join him, he didn’t act like it. A quick glance at his left hand confirmed that he didn’t wear a wedding ring. Castiel’s gaze skimmed back over his face, those cheekbones, that jawline. Sharp, crisp, clean-shaven: you could damn near cut yourself if you weren’t careful.

Castiel forced his gaze back to his aunt. Two and a half seconds, that was all he could be allowed. Any less, he wouldn’t really be looking; any more, Hester would grow suspicious. Castiel smiled reassuringly, inclining his head to indicate his attention. He knew how these conversations worked; he wouldn’t be required to provide input for another five minutes, at least. He listened to her disparage over pork cutlets for another minute, humming in agreement, before he let his attention wander back to that table.

His eyes flitted again, his mind already starting the two-and-a-half-second timer, when everything quite suddenly froze. The timer tumbled away, forgotten, as green eyes filled his vision, spreading, spreading through his mind and claiming every iota, every thought, every piece, even the pieces that were supposed to remain aware enough to keep him from staring. Because the green-eyed man was staring right back at him, a soft smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

And Castiel found himself smiling back. Not the generic, charming smile he coaxed on for his clients, nor the stiff, requisite smile he plastered on for his family. No, it was a real smile, one that rarely found itself used. But in that moment, staring across the restaurant at a handsome stranger, Castiel finally found use for it.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he really should stop staring. Common sense demanded it...and yet, he didn’t feel inclined to listen to common sense in that moment. And if he was reading this correctly, the stranger wasn’t planning on looking away anytime soon either. He stared his fill, just like Castiel did.

But Castiel knew this couldn’t last. Any moment, Hester would notice his distraction, any moment she’d turn to see what had so effectively captured his attention away, any moment she’d declare, “Not for you, my boy. Not this one.” And then that would be the end of it. Castiel would obediently withdraw his gaze, cut off that connection, forget that green pull and soft smile, because he had learned long before what happened when he didn’t obey.

But right now, in this moment, he let himself have this, this tenuous thread between held gazes across a crowded room filled with hushed tones muffled by plush carpets. Because who knew when he would have it again? But even now, captivated as he was by those freckles and straight white teeth, he could sense the shift. Hester’s voice faltered, her eyes narrowed, her body already mid-turn...

“So sorry I’m late!” Meg drawled as she threw herself into the chair Pierre was suddenly pulling out for her. Castiel’s gaze flew to meet hers, as did Hester’s, and the tenuous moment ended. The distraction was (gratefully) all but forgotten as Hester zeroed in on her new target.

“Tardiness is a most unbecoming habit, Megan,” Hester immediately chastised, falling into her usual lecture mode, as she did anytime Meg was in company. 

Castiel sighed and settled back in his chair, taking a moment to clear his mind and settle his thoughts. He determined silently that there would be no more stolen glances...he’d nearly forgotten himself, and he couldn’t allow that to happen again. Not in front of Hester.

With his decision made, he steeled his mind for the impending argument, because there was always an argument when it came to Hester and Meg, and focused his attention solely on those at his table, completely blocking out the rest of the restaurant. He tuned back into the conversation at his table just in time to hear Meg plead, “only five thousand dollars! I’ve run into a couple little problems.”

He sighed, already knowing the answer, even as Hester huffed out, “Your irresponsibility regarding the fiscal astounds me!”

“Seriously? My irresponsibility?” Meg’s eyes narrowed. “This, coming from the woman who spent close to seventeen thousand dollars on her dogs last week!”

Hester drew herself upright. “Yes, because they were worth the sum, my dear. You, on the other hand...” she let the thought trail off. As they glared at each other, Castiel slipped his phone from his pocket beneath the table, his fingers discreetly flying over the screen.

When neither woman appeared ready to acquiesce, Castiel prepared to step in. But before he could, Hester hurled her final blow. 

“If it’s such a trifling sum, as you seem to think it, why not ask your father?” Meg flinched, but Hester pushed on. “I’m sure Lucifer would be more than willing to share with his own flesh and blood,” her tone was pleasant enough, but her expression was nothing short of cold, calculating. She’d known exactly how to truly wound her niece.

Meg stood stiffly, her entire frame radiating anger. Even in her anger, though, she knew to hold herself in check. She gritted out, “You know, I’ve just remembered another engagement. If you’ll excuse me.”

Before she could whirl away, Castiel rose from his seat, laying a gentle hand on her arm. She turned to him slowly, and he offered her a tentative smile. He recognized the softening in her expression, the relaxation in her bearing as she allowed him to pull her into a hug.

“Check your account,” he whispered under his breath in the moment they held each other tight. And then he was releasing her, smiling gently as she squeezed his hand for the briefest of seconds in silent thanks.

Once she’d left, Castiel settled back into his seat to wait for their food.

“You spoil her,” Hester chastised. Castiel sighed and shook his head, “I didn’t.”

Her eyes widened briefly, the first real show of emotion he’d seen. Her rage and malice were always manufactured, always designed for a specific result...but this shock, it was genuine. He took vicious pleasure in that.

“You’re still in touch with him then.” It wasn’t a question.

Castiel smiled grimly, “Just because you can pretend that he doesn’t exist, that does not mean I have to.”

Before she could supply an adequate response, the waiter appeared to set down their plates. The rest of their brunch, as usual, was spent in silence, broken only by the muted clink of silver and crystal.  
Castiel kept his gaze firmly on his plate, refusing the temptation to lift his eyes towards that back corner again. No more mistakes, not today. No matter how very appealing they may be.

***

But just because Castiel decided something, that didn’t mean that the universe had to agree with him. So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when, after Castiel had settled Hester in her car and waved her driver away, he found the green-eyed man waiting there, right at his elbow as if he’d been magically summoned at the perfect moment.

His grin was somehow both shy and confident, easygoing and tense; soft enough to draw Castiel in, sharp enough to warn him from getting too close.

“Hi there,” green eyes flashed as soft lips curled upwards.

Castiel never had been very good at heeding warnings.

***

His name was Dean Smith, and he was an investment banker. He’d just moved to California for work, but he missed his old life back in Kansas. He still needed to transfer his gym membership, he preferred Vonnegut to Brautigan, and he’d take a plain old beer any day. 

Castiel couldn’t help the way his eyes followed Dean’s long-fingered hands as he gestured excitedly, or the way his tongue mimicked Dean’s slow swipe over his bottom lip, or the way his fingers itched to trace along that sharp jaw. Everything about him was so bright and distinct, from his voice to his laugh to his mannerisms...and all of it was focused, intently so, on Castiel.

He could understand how this, this sole undivided focus, could become addictive. Or maybe it was having Dean’s undivided focus. The way he smiled softly when Castiel explained his work at the gallery, or laughed boisterously when he confirmed that he maintained a healthy fear of Hester, or teased gently when he confided that he, like most of his family, had been named for an angel.

“You can be my guardian angel any day,” Dean flirted, and Castiel smirked and called out the awful line for what it was.

And when the clock finally tore them back to their respective lives, Castiel left Dean with his number and a promise for a dinner later that week. 

As he drove back towards the gallery, his mind raced with the possibilities. It may have started out like any other day, but now, with the promise of more time with Dean heavy in his thoughts... he allowed his smile to grow. It had ended up a day unlike any other.

***

Dean settled into the plush leather seat, sighing in relief. He always felt anxious about the initial contact, but this had gone better than most.

He waited til he was out in traffic, where the speed and noise would deter any eavesdroppers, before thumbing through his contacts to call Smiley Dental Works.

After two rings, a smooth female voice filled the car. “Smiley Dental Works. How may I help you?”

“Yes, this is customer one-four-seven. I wanted to check on the status of my appointment scheduled for eighteen hundred thirty-four hours.”

A slight pause, then, “Allow me to connect your call.”

Again two rings. This time, a deep voice filtered through the speakers. “Good afternoon, Agent. Status?”

“Initial contact successful,” Dean reported coolly, a smirk settling on his handsome mouth. “Next contact already scheduled.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had guessed that Castiel would be a good link to Lucifer, and snippets in their conversation tonight had verified that. It had only taken a couple gentle nudges for Cas to talk about his uncle who “wasn’t really in the family in the more...” 
> 
> He’d chosen well. Castiel was the perfect mark for this.

“Good afternoon, Agent. Status?” 

“Initial contact successful. Next contact already scheduled,” Dean couldn’t help his smirk. If Henriksen’s silence was anything to go by, the supervising agent hadn’t expected to hear back from him so soon. 

Finally, the falsely cheerful: “Excellent work, Winchester. I knew I could count on you.” 

Dean’s smirk faded into a grimace. If Victor was so confident in his abilities, why was he forcing him to check in every damn step of the way, like some rookie? Just because one mission hadn’t gone exactly to plan, now he was being “monitored,” kept tabs on. 

As if he could hear his rebellious thoughts, Victor added, “Thank you for letting me know. We’re only doing this for your own protection.” 

Dean plastered a false smile, his tone equally false as he responded, “Of course, Sir. Whatever you think is best.” 

“When is your next...contact?” Dean didn’t miss the extra beat there, and he smiled. Victor may not have exactly agreed with his methods, but he needed them. 

“We have a date planned for dinner Friday,” Dean answered smugly. “I’ll check in with you afterwards.” 

“Good, good. I’ll look forward to hearing from you then,” Victor assured him. Just as Dean was about to press the button to hang up, his voice came through again, “And Dean? This one’s big; we can’t afford any fuck ups.” 

“Yes, sir.” And then Dean hung up before Victor could offer any more annoying, albeit well-intentioned, warnings. 

He flipped on the radio, choosing a station that the ever-practical Dean Smith would never listen to. He blared the music as he sped down the freeway, windows down, sunroof open on the oh-so-sensible smart car that Dean Smith drove. This was his five minutes of freedom.

But as he neared his exit, he closed the sunroof, rolled up the windows. The volume went back down, the station changed. By the time he pulled into the parking garage for Sandover Investments, he was mild-mannered Dean Smith once again. 

He smiled blandly and nodded at the security guard behind the front desk, lifting a hand in greeting to a colleague as he passed. Generic but likable, that was Dean Smith. 

He pulled out his work ID to scan through to the elevators, humming softly under his breath. He stood in the back corner of the elevator on the way up, his briefcase gripped right in one hand, his phone in the other. Neither was very far from one of the several discreet weapons on his person. He’d learned all too well with his last mission; no more fuck ups.

He’d just stepped out onto his floor when his secretary came hurrying up. 

“Zachariah wants to see you in his office, now!” 

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned back into the elevator, jabbing the button for the top floor. Of all the pretentious pricks in this world, there were none quite like Zachariah. Dean strongly suspected that Victor had chosen this cover job for the sole purpose of shoving Dean under that smarmy bastard’s thumb. 

Dean plastered on his winning smile, the very same he’d used to bag this soul-sucking job, and stepped out onto the executives’ floor. He strode up to the assistant’s desk, turning up one corner of his mouth flirtatiously. 

“Good afternoon, Ruby,” he greeted, pitching his voice a little lower than absolutely necessary. He’d learned, in their very first conversation, that she was a flirt, so he’d accommodated, responded in kind. The young woman seated behind the desk grinned back, her eyes sharp and cutting as they ran down his tall frame. 

“Mr. Smith, we’ve been expecting you,” she purred. 

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he murmured. He let his eyes linger on her mouth for just a moment before pretending to shake himself. “I’ll just head back to see him now?” 

She inclined her head towards the office, and he offered a parting wink before strutting away. 

As soon as he stepped through the heavy oak door, Zachariah’s eyes lifted from the file he perused. 

“Dean!” he stood, holding his arms out in greeting. “Have a seat!” 

Dean settled into one of the plush leather chairs in front of the desk, nonchalantly crossing one leg over the other. 

“You seemed in a hurry to get me up here,” Dean observed, staring directly at the older man. 

“You’re not one to beat around the bush! I like that,” Zachariah smiled as he stalked around the desk. “And can you blame me? I left that message with your secretary over two hours ago! When she assured me that you were only on your lunch break, I assumed you’d be up to see me within the hour.” 

He perched himself on the edge of his desk so that he loomed over Dean, his smile condescending. Dean suppressed his shudder. 

“That was my fault; I forgot to tell her I had an appointment scheduled after lunch,” he forced his smile to turn bashful, apologetic.

“An appointment?” Zachariah’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “With whom?” 

“Possible client...” Dean quickly weighed his options, racing through possible outcomes before settling on his course of action. “Castiel Shurley,” he tossed out the name, but he could feel Zachariah latch onto it. He leaned forward, his eyes intent on Dean’s. 

“Castiel Shurley...of the Charles Shurley family?” 

Dean smiled knowingly. “The very same.” 

“They’re...they’re...” Zachariah trailed off, trying to find the words, but finally settling for, “my god, they’re incredibly wealthy!” 

Dean nodded again. “Well put, Sir.” 

“When can we anticipate the account finalized?” Zachariah prodded eagerly, and Dean shrugged. 

“You’ll be the first to know,” Dean promised. He hesitated, waiting for Zachariah to continue. When he didn’t, Dean arched an eyebrow. “Was there something else you needed?” 

Zachariah started, seeming to come back to himself. “No, actually. Just wanted to check on your progress, see how you’re settling in. But it appears you’re adapting quite well.”

Dean stood, holding out a hand toward Zachariah. “Yes, I believe so. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.” 

“But of course!” Zachariah gushed, standing to shake Dean’s hand vigorously. “If you can get us this account, I dare say you’d be one of the fastest promoted executives in the history of the company.” 

Dean smirked, “That’s exactly what I like to hear.” 

And then he turned away and strode back out. Tossing out Castiel’s name like that had been bold, risky, but it should keep Zachariah off his back for a little while, at least. He hated those last-minute judgment calls, whenever they arose, but that’s what he’d been trained for. 

Now his assignment, his work, and his personal life all intersected beautifully on one Castiel Shurley. And it didn’t hurt that the man was gorgeous, either. Dean had had his fair share of less than appealing marks, and yes, each and every one had believed him interested...but it was always nice when he didn’t have to work quite so hard to fake it. 

***

Castiel’s eyes flashed over the rim of his wine glass as he took another sip, his mouth turning up at the corners. Even with his attempt at hiding the smirk, Dean caught it. 

“You think that’s funny?” Dean asked indignantly. “I could have died!” But then he was smiling again, warm and easygoing. Castiel’s cheeks heated, but he didn’t look away. 

Their dinner plates had long since been cleared, as had their dessert dish, but here they still sat, hours later. The conversation had flowed easily, naturally. Castiel would be hard pressed to recall a first date that had gone so well, especially given his...peculiar personality. 

Sure, he could turn on the charm for work, knew how to sell the art. But any more than the requisite few minutes for selling a piece, and the cracks began to show. Those little fissures that had been chipped into place in his childhood, that somehow seemed to splinter further and further with each passing day under a controlling family’s watchful gaze...it never took long for anyone to spot them. 

But Dean somehow managed to smooth over those sharp edges, skip right over those gaping holes. And now, Castiel was feeling more at ease than he had any right to, especially on a first date. It was partly because of the wine glass that had magically remained full all throughout the evening, but mostly because of Dean.

“I’m just trying to picture it...” Castiel assured him. “I mean, I don’t know what’s worse: the underwear on the head, the Batman cape, or the rollerblades...”

“Oh, like you never pretended to be a superhero!”

“I never really knew much about them.” Dean gaped at him, and Castiel shrugged. “My parents believed that television rotted the brain and stifled growth and development.” 

“Even the PBS cartoons?” Dean cried in astonishment. 

Castiel offered a flat look. “Especially the PBS cartoons. Far too liberal for young, impressionable children! According to them, at least.” 

Dean sighed heavily as he brought a nearly empty beer bottle up to his perfectly shaped lips. “There’s so much that makes sense now.” 

“Well, not all of us were entitled to lazy Saturdays in our p.j.’s with coma-inducing waffle monstrosities for breakfast,” Castiel defended. 

Dean pointed a finger at him, “Hey! Don’t knock Waffle Wakeups! I only told you about them because they are sacred, and should be treated as such.” 

“Maybe... I guess I’ll just have to judge for myself,” Cas decided with a smirk. 

A flush rose on Dean’s cheeks, even as his grin turned suggestive. “And you’ll be judging this for yourself...how?”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Castiel murmured softly. 

***

Later, when they had drawn out their time for as long as possible, when the restaurant had emptied of all but them, when it became obvious that the evening had to come to an end, Dean walked Castiel back to his car. Neither seemed keen to rush, turning the short walk through the parking lot into a leisurely stroll. 

They walked closely together, their shoulders and arms brushing between them. Castiel felt the need to press closer to Dean like a physical ache in his chest. His fingers twitched with the effort to remain safely at his own side. He wanted to cross the already minuscule space between them and take that strong, firm hand in his own. He wanted to touch, to claim; but he wouldn’t be the first to move. He never had been. 

But then, as if he himself had been thinking the very same, Dean was reaching, taking his hand, lacing their fingers together. And Castiel had to wonder why he had worried so much about this, because it felt right, natural. The way their hands fit, two puzzle pieces that had just been waiting to find one another...it was perfect. 

It wasn’t until they were at Castiel’s car that Dean broke the silence.

“So, I’d love to do this again,” his voice was low, so low that Castiel would have missed it, had it not been just the two of them in the silence of an abandoned parking lot. 

Castiel finally did what he’d been wanting, aching, to do. He turned in towards Dean, smiling up at him softly. 

“I’d really like that,” he agreed. Their eyes locked, held—blue mesmerized by green. “I’d really like that a lot.” 

Dean let out a whoosh of breath, chuckling. “Awesome.” 

And then his hand was there, warm and gentle and strong against Castiel’s cheek, tilting his face up, up, up. Castiel followed eagerly, arching up, searching. Their lips met in a chaste kiss, just the barest press of lips. But Castiel knew immediately that he needed more; he’d been craving this, craving Dean, since he’d first laid eyes on him across that crowded restaurant, and now he was finally getting his first taste. 

He lifted his own hands to grip the front of Dean’s jacket, angling his head to slot his mouth more firmly against Dean’s. He reveled in the low moan that tore from Dean’s throat, desperate and hungry. He could taste the decadent chocolate dessert they’d shared, the malt beer Dean had sipped throughout the meal, the fresh mint Dean had popped in his mouth on the way out the door. But underneath it all, Castiel could taste Dean. 

He wasn’t sure how he knew, already, what Dean tasted like, what flavor was distinctly his. But somehow, he did know, as their tongues chased and teased. He knew that at its very base, this kiss tasted of the gorgeous man. 

And then all too soon the kiss broke, leaving them both panting into each other’s mouths, breathing one another’s air. Castiel nuzzled his nose against Dean’s cheek, ghosting a light press of lips over the clean shaven skin there. 

“We’re definitely going to do this again,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s ear. 

Dean breathed out a laugh, “I think so, yes.” 

Castiel pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “Sorry, you think so? No, I know so!” Castiel teased. “How else am I going to get a Waffle Wakeup?”

Dean chuckled, running his thumb over Castiel’s cheekbone. 

“We definitely need to make that happen,” he agreed. “Sometime soon.” 

He brushed his lips against Castiel’s one last time, then stepped away so Castiel could unlock his car and slide inside. He started the car, then rolled down the window so he could wave to Dean one last time. 

“I’ll text you,” Dean promised as Castiel began to back out of his parking spot. 

“I’ll be watching for it,” Castiel replied before he rolled up his window and drove away.

***

Dean watched Castiel’s taillights fade into the dark night, a soft smile still on his lips. He spun on his heel and strode toward where he’d parked his own car. Without thinking, he slipped out his phone and began to thumb through his contacts, absently scanning for the number. 

He’d guessed that Castiel would be a good link to Lucifer, and snippets in their conversation tonight had verified that. It had only taken a couple gentle nudges for Cas to talk about his uncle who “wasn’t really in the family in the more...” He’d chosen well. Castiel was the perfect mark for this. 

But even as the thought crossed his mind, something in his chest rebelled at the idea. 

His thumb froze over the call button. He hesitated. It was late; Victor wouldn’t even be there this late. He didn’t absolutely have to check in right away...

After only a moment of deliberation, he put the phone away. Tomorrow he’d call Victor and tell him all about it, give him the good news. But for tonight, he’d savor this. He could pretend, just for tonight, that this had been just for him, a regular date with a gorgeous guy he’d met by chance. No deception, no manipulation, no coercion. Silly as the idea may be...he could pretend that it really was just him and Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve had a few people mention that they liked it, or they wanted to read more, which is always super encouraging! Keep up the comments; you’ll probably get updates faster! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean studied him, his expression perplexed. “Why won’t you display your art? I know it must be beautiful.” 
> 
> Castiel didn’t know how to explain the truth: it wasn’t a matter of beauty, it was a matter of exposing his heart. His anger, his bitterness—these were evident in his painting, and for those to be put on display for others to see...for his family to see...it was unthinkable.

Castiel strolled through the gallery, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed and at ease. 

He paused at the occasional piece, head cocked to the side, considering, evaluating. He should have one of the interns rearrange the American Regionalism exhibit...it didn’t feel quite right, not since they’d added the Curtis piece last week. 

He motioned Alfie over and took a moment to explain to the over-eager intern his vision for the exhibit. Alfie nodded enthusiastically, his expression slightly star-struck. Castiel smiled kindly. It wasn’t unusual for the interns to develop a slight crush. Here, he was in his element. He was the expert, and his authority was obvious in his bearing. 

As he kept walking, he greeted the few patrons who were here at this quiet hour. He smiled kindly at a young couple who’d wandered in off the street, hands clasped gently between them as they shuffled from piece to piece. They were obviously not here to buy anything; each piece probably equaled a year’s worth of paychecks. But they were studying the pieces, enjoying them, discussing them quietly between themselves. Castiel never begrudged the people who came in to appreciate the art; that was, after all, its purpose.

He considered approaching them, but he could tell how wrapped up they were in each other, in themselves as a whole. He didn’t want to ruin that. He smirked at his own sentimentality; it had happened more and more since he’d started seeing Dean...

“Castiel!” he turned to find Anna standing with an elderly lady by the entrance. He headed their way, smiling warmly at the ladies. 

“Anna!” he exclaimed, bending to peck her on the cheek. 

“Good afternoon, Castiel,” Anna greeted. She indicated the lady standing next to her, “This is Mrs. Estelle Worthington, one of my newer clients. Estelle, this is Castiel Shurley, the chief curator.” 

Castiel took the lady’s outstretched hand in a firm shake, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Worthington!” 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied, her expression gracious. Her bearing was one that Castiel was used to, having grown up in the world he did. She had money, that much was certain, and the bearing that indicated she came from old money. “Anna mentioned you had a piece I might be interested in, and I just had to come see it for myself,” she explained, and Castiel nodded enthusiastically. 

“If Anna says it, then I must have something for you,” Castiel assured her. 

“She has the Klimt I was telling you about before,” Anna interjected. Castiel’s smile grew at the name.

“Yes, I do remember! I have just the thing. If you’ll both just accompany me over this way,” he swept his arm toward the North Room. As they walked, Castiel pointed out pieces of interest, giving brief analyses and observations, noting what caught Estelle’s eye, what didn’t merit so much as a second glance. He didn’t stop, however, until they stood before the art itself.

“This would complement the piece you already have on display in your foyer,” Castiel suggested. “It’s by a newer artist, Michael Davis. He’s somewhat of a local phenomenon, just gaining some prominence in the East. His style is very reminiscent of Klimt’s, as you can see.”

“It’s beautiful,” Estelle breathed, her eyes tracing over the swirls and squares. “The woman’s face...so captivating!”

Castiel nodded, his eyes softening. “I think it speaks to the rapture one feels when they’re truly connected, spiritually and physically, with another person.” 

“Indeed,” Estelle murmured, her voice contemplative, lost in thought as she studied the painting. But Anna’s eyes were focused on him, on his face. Castiel avoided her gaze. 

“What do you think, Estelle?” Castiel prodded gently. The older woman turned awestruck eyes to him, and Castiel felt that swell of triumph in his chest. He knew that this was a done deal. 

“When I was much younger, when I fell in love for the very first time... I can still remember what it felt like, being wrapped up in him so completely. I felt loved, protected. This...” she looked back at the painting, “somehow this is exactly what it felt like.” 

Castiel had heard people make similar claims all their life. He’d heard them talk about their true love with adoration and longing. He’d never quite understood. But now, with the beginnings of his relationship stirring at the back of his mind, he could almost touch it. He could see how people could spout such nonsense and mean it, utterly and completely. His smile softened, his stance relaxed.

Estelle turned to him. “I see you know what I mean.” 

Castiel ducked his head, for the briefest of moments, a soft blush rising on his cheeks. “Yes, I think I do.” 

Once the sale had been completed and the transport of the piece arranged, Castiel and Anna saw Estelle off with promises to contact her should another similar piece become available. No sooner was she out the door, than Anna was turning on him, her eyes narrowed. 

“Tell me everything!” 

*** 

Anna agreed to keep Dean a secret from the rest of the family, at least for as long as she could. Because, as she warned him on her way out, “You know that Hester will find out about this. She always does, somehow.” 

Castiel nodded, his expression somber. “I know. I just...I want to keep this, just like it is, for as long as I possibly can. If she decides...” he trailed off, but Anna knew what he was going to say. She’d been there, the first time. She’d seen what had happened. 

“He seems wonderful, Castiel. Truly, I can’t wait to meet him,” she hinted with a smirk, and Castiel laughed as he showed her out the door. 

***

As it was, Anna didn’t have to wait for much longer to meet Dean. 

The very next week, she and Castiel were strolling through the gallery, discussing options for a new immersive piece that a local artist had presented to them that morning. 

“I like the vision of the piece,” Castiel murmured. “And it would fit well with the theme of the gala.” 

“But...” Anna prompted. 

Castiel sighed. “But we just don’t have the space. Perhaps if we moved the —“ he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat lightly. They turned in unison, matching smiles plastered on their faces, to the pair standing behind them. 

Alfie stood there with a new guest, his posture stiff and uncertain. Castiel froze for a split second, surprise flitting across his expression, before his genuine smile slipped out.

“Dean!” he greeted, stepping forward to pull him into a quick hug. Dean’s grin was huge as he wrapped his arms tight around Cas. 

“Hey, Cas,” he murmured against his ear. 

Castiel pulled back, but not too far as Dean’s arm slid around his waist. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was in the neighborhood; thought I’d stop by to say hi,” Dean explained with a shrug. As if there were no other reason than for the sake of seeing Castiel. 

Castiel turned back to his friend before he did something rash, like pull Dean into a hungry kiss in the middle of his gallery. “Anna, this is Dean.” 

Anna smiled widely, her eyes mischievous as she stepped forward to shake Dean’s free hand. “Castiel has told me all about you!” 

“He has, huh?” Dean teased, glancing down at Cas. 

“I always like talking about the good things in my life,” Castiel explained. Dean seemed to freeze for a moment, surprise clear on his face, but then his smile was back. 

“It’s always good to be one of the good things,” he said softly, gaze soft on Castiel. Castiel could have stood there, staring at him, studying him, for hours, had Anna not cleared her throat gently. 

Castiel tore his gaze away, blushing guiltily. “Right! We’re just in the middle of a walk-through, but—“

“But we can finish that later!” Anna interjected. “I’ll go...find something to do.” 

“Actually,” Castiel said, turning toward Alfie who’d been standing silently by. “Why don’t you and Alfie go over the rest of the floor? He did an excellent job on the regionalism exhibit last week; I’d say he could offer some valuable input.” 

Alfie’s face brightened. “Yeah! Sure!” He shook himself, “I mean, of course. I’d be honored, Sir.” 

Castiel nodded. “Good. I’ll catch up with you in a bit, Anna.” 

And then he turned back to Dean and his amused expression. “What?” 

“Why do I get the feeling that all of your interns fall madly in love with you?” Dean asked, but his eyes gave away his teasing.

Castiel blushed but shook his head. “Not all of them...” his expression turned mischievous. “Kate’s a lesbian.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Well, that certainly puts my mind at ease!” 

Castiel leaned into his side. “Trust me, there’s absolutely no competition,” he assured him. 

“I know,” Dean admitted. “I just like to hear it!”

Castiel laughed and gave him a gentle push away. “And the fragile male ego once again rears its ugly head!” 

Dean smirked but didn’t deny it. Instead, he pulled Castiel right back in, wrapping his arm around him again. “When’s your lunch break?” 

“Right now, I suppose,” Castiel replied. 

“Good, there’s a little deli around the corner I’ve been wanting to try,” Dean explained as he guided them back toward the entrance.

As they passed the different pieces, Castiel pointed out a couple of his favorites.

Dean finally asked, “Do you have any pieces in here?” 

Before Castiel could answer, Anna slipped up beside them. “If you can convince him to display a couple, you’d be my personal hero.” 

“No,” Castiel tossed out before Dean could even turn to him. He shot Anna a glare around Dean.

Anna sighed wearily. “It was worth a try.” 

She wandered off with Alfie again, and Castiel looked back up to Dean expectantly, “Ready for lunch?” 

Dean however, was studying him, his expression perplexed. “Why won’t you display your art? I know it must be beautiful.” 

Castiel didn’t know how to explain the truth: it wasn’t a matter of beauty, it was a matter of exposing his heart. His anger, his bitterness—these were evident in his painting, and for those to be put on display for others to see...for his family to see...it was unthinkable. 

Instead, Castiel shrugged noncommittally. He slid his hand into Dean’s and began leading him away from the art, away from the uncomfortable question that still hung in the air, toward the exit. 

“How has work been today?” he asked, and just like that, the subject was dropped. 

***

Later, when Dean dropped Castiel back off after lunch, he pulled him into a brief kiss. 

“Can I take you out tomorrow night? There’s a seafood festival down by the park.” 

Castiel hummed contentedly and nodded. “Yes, I’d really like that.” 

Dean’s grin was triumphant. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven?” 

“I’ll be ready,” Castiel breathed, stealing one more quick kiss before he slid out of the car. 

Dean waited until he’d gone back inside before he pulled away from the curb. 

He pulled out his phone and typed in a quick text with one hand while he steered with the other.

_Taking Cas out tomorrow night._

Victor responded almost immediately. 

_Good. Try to find a way to meet his family._

Dean grimaced, his thumb flying over the screen. 

_Too soon._

Victor’s reply was brief, but it effectively conveyed the intended message. 

_The family is the goal here, Winchester._

Dean sighed and tossed the phone away. So tomorrow night, he’d hint at the idea of meeting Cas’s family. Because, as much as he was enjoying this, what would be the point of maintaining the relationship otherwise? 

Cas was a means to an end, and Dean would do well to remember that. 

***

Cas slipped back into the gallery, humming softly under his breath. He didn’t like overanalyzing these things; it inevitably led to self-sabotage on his part. He still couldn’t help but marvel at how little it took to lift his mood when it came to Dean. Lunch hadn’t been anything special, just soups and sandwiches at a little deli. Even so, his mood had lifted substantially. 

He walked straight to the back of the gallery, then pressed in the code to the heavy oak door that accessed the office hall.

“Anna, I’ll be right with you,” Cas assured her as he passed the open door of her office and headed for his own door. 

“Castiel—“ Anna called, her tone urgent, springing up from her desk, but he was already opening his door. 

His light mood immediately plummeted. Hester sat at his desk, her posture too relaxed, her hands folded primly over her bulging stomach. Castiel glanced back down the hall toward where Anna stood in her office doorway, her expression apologetic. Castiel simply shrugged to show there were no hard feelings. 

He took a deep breath and stepped into the office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Hester barely turned her head to acknowledge his presence. 

“Have a seat, Castiel,” she commanded, and even though they were in his office, in his gallery, Castiel obeyed. 

“Aunt Hester, I was not expecting you,” Castiel mumbled absently, almost in an attempt to buy himself time to school his features. He rounded the desk slowly, and by the time he settled himself into his chair, his false smile was firmly in place. 

Hester smiled coldly. “I know, Dear, but I always have felt a certain...responsibility to look after your welfare,” she explained, her tone condescending. 

“I’m sure I appreciate it,” Castiel replied flatly, his tone the closest he’d come to rebellion in years. 

Hester humphed gently as she shifted her weight. “Let’s not beat around the bush, Castiel. Your new friend...” her eyes were intent on his face, studying, dissecting. 

Castiel froze. How the hell did she know? He’d been so careful; so very careful. Except for today, when Dean had finally visited him here... 

“Well, news certainly does travel fast,” Castiel muttered, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap. It was a false confidence, he knew, but it still helped, even if just in his own chest. 

“I’m very intrigued,” she admitted. “Of all of my family, I never would have considered you to be the deceptive one.” 

“Deceptive?” Castiel scoffed. “This was nothing of the kind. I simply wanted to ensure he was worthy before burdening you.” 

One heavily-filled brow arched. “I’m sure.” 

Castiel kept his smile plastered on. Hester waited, but Castiel had grown up playing this game as well. They stared each other down, masks firmly in place. 

Hester was the first to crack. “And your findings?” she gritted out. Castiel felt vicious pleasure stab through him.

“I think you’ll find him more than acceptable,” Castiel said, his genuine smile creeping through. His tone, however, spoke the unvoiced truth: Dean was staying, even if she didn’t find him acceptable. 

Hester humphed again. “I’m sure I can determine that for myself.” She stood, clutching her purse tightly in front of her. “Bring him on Saturday.” 

“Of course,” Castiel agreed easily as he stood as well. “I’ll be sure to extend your invitation.” He walked back around the desk and held out his hand toward the office door, “Shall I see you out?” 

“I can see myself out, thank you,” Hester declared as she turned away. “I’ll see you on Saturday.” 

Castiel waited until he heard the hallway door shut behind her before he allowed himself to relax. He slumped back against his desk, running a hand over his eyes. Fuck. 

“Castiel?” Anna murmured, her voice tentative. 

“Yes, sorry,” Castiel apologized, mentally shaking himself. He stood upright. “Let’s finish that walk-through.” 

“We don’t have to, just yet,” she assured him with an encouraging smile. “I just...I’m sorry. I tried to warn you.” 

“It’s okay,” Castiel offered. “I just...she likes catching me off guard. Even if you had been able to warn me in that split second, it still wouldn’t have been enough time.” 

Anna sighed, glancing away. When she looked back to Castiel, the familiar mischievous smile was spreading across her face. 

“She didn’t look too happy when she was leaving,” she observed.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Castiel admitted. “She didn’t get what she wanted.” 

Anna couldn’t help but mirror his triumphant smile. “Good.” 

As they strolled back out toward the gallery, Castiel kept his smile in place, but internally he sighed heavily. Now that Hester knew, now that Castiel had stood his ground, he had to wonder how much longer he and Dean had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realized why Castiel was so hesitant. Why he seemed to still hold part of himself away, protective and secret. It was simple self-preservation, preparation for later this evening when Dean would say, “Your family is awful; thanks, but no thanks.”
> 
> He couldn’t help but wonder how many times it had happened already

Dean had never been one to worry. Since childhood, he’d been fortunate enough to hold the innate conviction that no matter what happened, he’d figure it out. People with a past like his didn’t know any other way. Either figure it out, or...well, Dean wasn’t quite sure what the other option was, because he always fucking figured it out.

So when Victor told him, in no uncertain terms, to speed things along with Castiel’s family, he wasn’t worried. He knew he’d figure it out, a way into the family...but he hadn’t expected it to come so damn easily. In fact, of all the options and scenarios he had planned for, he wasn’t ready for what actually happened.

They’d just left the lemonade stand, jumbo cups of the sugary beverage held in the free hands that weren’t clasped between them, when Castiel pulled Dean toward a secluded bench off the major path. He settled down, pulling Dean with him, and offered a tentative smile at Dean’s questioning eyebrow.

Always direct, straightforward as ever, he spoke bluntly.

“I know we haven’t really talked about...this. How serious we want it to be, where we want it to go. And I understand that typically meeting the family is a significant event in any relationship. But...” he trailed off. He drew another deep breath. “It appears that my family would like to meet you.”

“Really?” Dean wondered, feigning surprise as he tried to conceal his triumph.

Castiel nodded, his expression tentative. “Hester came to see me yesterday,” he paused, deliberated. “Actually, make that ambushed. Hester ambushed me yesterday, after our lunch. She wants you to come meet the family this weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed. He blushed under Dean’s steady gaze. “We have this charity golf game and supper at the club.”

He finally looked away then, pretended to watch the crowds. But his peripheral was still arrested on Dean as he sat there, breathless, waiting.

Dean could tell how nervous he was about this, his anxiety broadcasted with every movement. He squeezed Cas’s hand, pulling his attention back. His smile was confident. “I don’t want to brag, but my handicap is pretty damn good.”

And just like that, they were back in easy territory. Castiel let out the breath he’d been holding, his eyes adoring on Dean’s face. A rush of exhilaration coursed through Dean. He felt like he could take on the whole damn world, if Cas would just keep looking at him like that.

“Considering that I don’t even really understand the handicap, you’ll need to brag to Michael about that,” Castiel admitted.

“Can’t wait to meet him,” Dean assured him as he stood from the bench, pulling Cas up with him. “Now, let’s go find some shrimp kabobs!”

***

Later, when Castiel was using the porta-potty, Dean shot off the quick text.

_Meeting the family this weekend._

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, not bothering to wait for Victor’s response. He was already beginning to hate himself as it was, even without Victor’s damning praise and affirmation.

***

Castiel had always been the hesitant one in any relationship. He didn’t typically take chances, rarely laid his soul bare. He was honest, but guarded. He had never been one to rush into anything, especially the physical. 

He had to know that he could trust the person, had to believe that they were as invested as he was. He had to want them, beyond the passing fancy. And yes, one could argue that he’d well surpassed that point with Dean already. Yet, ever hesitant, he hadn’t moved beyond increasingly familiar touches and hungry kisses.

But that night, he knew it was time. He was ready for it, ready to give the handsome, generous man anything and everything.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that Dean could very soon be gone that prompted his decision. Because even if Hester approved, even if the family accepted him...Dean might decide that he wasn’t worth it. He knew his family could be overbearing, off-putting.

Maybe it was the rolling pit of need, so long unfulfilled, that plunged deeper and deeper every time they touched—maybe that gave him that gentle shove. He hadn’t attempted any kind of relationship in a long while, and he was so hungry for this, for Dean.

But it was probably Dean—Dean and his kind smiles and happy eyes, his boisterous laughs, his shy blushes—that convinced Castiel. Dean who reacted so perfectly to Castiel, to his quirks and eccentricities. Dean who was unendingly patient and understanding. Dean was everything Castiel wanted, and he was his for the taking.

So when the night ended, and the two of them stood on Castiel’s front door step, it seemed only natural to look up through his lashes, a heavy blush staining his cheeks as he whispered, “Come inside?”

And Dean, while obviously surprised, smiled one of those soft, shy smiles that he seemed to reserve only for Castiel, and let Cas tug him through the front door.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frenzied. The two men exchanged soft kisses in the dark, slowly shedding their clothing as they meandered toward the bedroom, stopping often to exchange another kiss, then another, each hungrier than the last. When Castiel finally fell back onto the bed, with Dean’s weight above him, pressing him further into the mattress, he could feel them both, hard and aching.

Each brush against his cock, even through the boxers he wore, was its own blissful agony. His fingers twisted into the bedspread, his body shuddering and twitching under Dean’s hands. But still they did not rush. Dean seemed content to borrow all the time in the world, pushing them both further, ratcheting their need higher.

Castiel didn’t mind.

In fact, he preferred it, this gentle build that allowed him to savor every moment. The weight of Dean on his tongue, the imprint of long fingers on his hips, the slow stretch of being opened so completely. He accumulated beautiful bruises across his collar bone, his chest, the inside of his thighs.

He was so close, so close already. He didn’t think he would be able to control it, the need that consumed him so wholly. When Dean finally, finally, pushed in, Castiel was near sobs, begging shamelessly.

As they moved together, their desire a rolling tide that built and built with each push, Castiel cried out, burying his face in Dean’s damp neck. He reveled in the sound of Dean’s voice cracking as he chanted Castiel’s name over and over, low and rough like a prayer.

And then Dean took Castiel in hand, pumping once, twice, twisting just right under the head there, and Castiel was coming. He moaned as he clenched around Dean, yanking the other man with him into the blinding pleasure.

How long it took before they collapsed together, their uneven breaths fanning out on overheated skin, their lips catching briefly, Castiel would never know. All he knew was Dean, still above him, inside of him, surrounding him so completely...a warm steadying weight that kept him from floating away. Castiel pressed another quick, breathless kiss to Dean’s lips.

He didn’t let himself overthink it, didn’t let himself worry about what would happen that weekend with Dean and his family, didn’t let himself wonder if this was too much too soon. Instead, he let himself revel in the blankness of his mind, the heaviness of his limbs, the feeling of Dean pressed against him.

“Stay?” he whispered into that breath of space between them. Dean’s smile grew; he nodded.

As they settled in for sleep, Castiel couldn’t help his own contented smile.

In that moment, he felt whole, complete—perfect.

***

“Investment banker, huh?” Michael asked as he eyed the distance to the next hole.

Dean still wasn’t sure how this had happened, his being grouped with a bunch of random family members. There was Michael, a cousin; and Raphael, another cousin; and Uriel, an uncle. Castiel had stayed behind at the clubhouse, at Hester’s urging, to “provide your poor aunt some company, my boy.”

Dean had no doubt the family was in on this, her obvious plan to divide and conquer. He knew that Anna and Megan—both of whom Dean had met and somewhat gotten along with—were around somewhere with their own teams, but Hester had ensured that Dean was not put with either of them. That old bitch had, with one sentence, trapped Dean in hell for the afternoon. But, ever the professional bullshitter, Dean just smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I’m at Sandover Investments,” he replied.

“Really?” Uriel seemed surprised. “That’s quite a prestigious company.” His eyes narrowed. “How fortunate for you that they are so free in their employment preferences.”

Dean grit his teeth and forced his smile to remain firmly in place.

“Well, I am one of the best. So I’d say since their preference is to be the best company, it only makes sense.”

Uriel arched a brow. “Oh, no. Please don’t misunderstand, Dean. I wasn’t disparaging your work ethic or abilities; I was talking about your predisposition towards men.”

Dean barely controlled his eye roll. Because that really made it so much better, yes. Castiel had warned him just that morning about his family. He’d seemed genuinely worried about Dean’s reaction to his relatives, and now Dean understood. They were all a bunch of dicks.

“Don’t get us wrong,” Raphael interjected. “We don’t mind...”he faltered, “homosexuality. Hell, we love Castiel, even if he is a little...” he trailed off, but Michael spoke up.

“Well, you know, he’s in the arts.” Right, because that explained everything.

All three men shared knowing smiles, condescending in their righteousness. Dean wanted to kick all of their asses.

He had to wonder if he’d actually put up with Castiel’s family, if his mission weren’t so dependent on them. Would he choose to stay with Castiel, knowing how much he’d have to become involved with these pricks?

And suddenly, he realized why Castiel was so hesitant. Why he seemed to still hold part of himself away, protective and secret. It was simple self-preservation, preparation for later this evening when Dean would say, “Your family is awful; thanks, but no thanks.”

He couldn’t help but wonder how many times it had happened already, how many more times it would happen after Dean was out of the picture. He couldn’t stop the sadness that accompanied that thought, so he shoved it all away.

He just inclined his head toward the tee, “May I?”

He had been planning on letting one of these men win, in an attempt to ingratiate himself, but fuck that. Dean swung, his ball sailing cleanly down the green. He smiled smugly as he turned back to them, “Who’s next?”

***

“I’m sure everything’s going well,” Anna assured Castiel as she patted his hand under the table. Hester had lumbered off to the bathroom, leaving Castiel, Anna, and Meg waiting for her. 

Both women had played exactly one hole, enough for the photo op, then booked it back inside to the air conditioning. Castiel would have found it funny, if he weren’t so damn grateful to have them running interference with his aunt’s cutting tongue.

“You say that, but you saw who she paired him with!” Castiel whined, dropping his head into his hands. “They’ll have him run off by the third hole!”

“Listen, Clarence,” Meg spoke without looking up from her phone. She missed the glare Castiel shot at her. “You seem pretty invested in this guy, and from what we’ve seen, he seems the same.” She looked straight up at Castiel. “If he really cares about you—if he’s really worth you—he won’t care about those bags of dicks. He’ll still wanna be with you!”

Castiel sighed. “I know, I know.”

“But not really,” Meg interjected. She glared at her cousin, her expression determined. “I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this before you believe it: you are worth everything. Everything, Castiel! And if Dean can’t see that, then he isn’t worth a pile of shit, and he’s definitely not worth you.”

Castiel glanced away, he had to, and wiped roughly at his eyes. Anna laid a hand on his arm, her smile soft. 

“She’s right, you know.”

Castiel shook his head sadly. “I just don’t want to lose him, not when it’s just starting.” He smiled at them. “I feel like I finally have something that’s just for me, and I don’t want to give that up.”

He didn’t bother adding that, no matter how many times they told him he was “worth it,” he still wouldn’t believe them. But given his past relationships, rare as they were, could his cousins really blame him?

***

When the match finally ended, with Dean as the clear winner, the four men returned to the clubhouse for supper. As he strode toward the dining room, Dean could see Castiel sitting there with his aunt and cousins, his expression uncertain, his posture stiff. He glanced up when the men approached, eyes immediately locking on Dean, anxious and already hurting, prepared for the worst.

Dean wasted no time, did not hesitate, to walk right up to him and pull him from his seat. He slid a long, possessive arm around Castiel’s waist and smiled warmly.

“Guess who won, Babe?” he murmured, and before Castiel could speak, he yanked his boyfriend into a heated kiss.

He could feel Castiel’s family watching them, reactions ranging from angry and appalled to shocked and delighted, but he didn’t care. And from the enthusiastic response he received, he would bet that Cas didn’t care much either. 

When they parted, Castiel wore that adoring look again, the one that made Dean feel unstoppable, the expression that Dean craved more and more. He smiled back, running his fingers down Cas’s arm to find his hand and link their fingers.

He glanced down to find Anna and Meg grinning up at them eagerly. When his eyes met Hester’s, though, he couldn’t read what he found there. It was disconcerting. He’d always been good at reading people, but her...he honestly couldn’t tell.

He didn’t back down though. Instead, he pulled Cas even closer and guided him toward another table, away from his controlling family, away from Hester.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean didn’t let himself consider his actions of the night—his jealousy for Cas, his hesitance at pulling Cas back into his family’s business, his need to protect the beautiful man from his own dark past, the way he really had lost himself in their sex. He couldn’t let himself examine any of it too closely, because that would bring up some dark questions, questions that Dean wasn’t prepared to answer. 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> Dean finally meets Gabriel, his link to Lucifer. But the more he learns about Cas's world, the more he wants to protect him from it.

The summer was passing far too quickly for Castiel’s liking. He understood that that was the way of things, always speeding along toward the next benchmark, but he still didn’t like it. The gala loomed on the horizon, and neither Anna nor Castiel felt they were truly prepared just yet.

They met with a couple more prospective artists and wooed several more sponsors, rearranged the exhibits again and again to find that perfect balance. Every detail was examined, from the schedule of the evening to the champagne they’d serve. They met with each intern to determine their strong points, placing them in an appropriate area of the gallery accordingly.

Work was, in essence, as busy as ever, but Castiel found that Dean somehow helped create a perfect balance in his hectic life. No matter how stressful a day had been, Dean would always be there at the end of it, with smiles and soft words of encouragement. He’d treat Cas to a night out at some fancy restaurant followed by a show or walk through the park. Or, if Cas wasn’t feeling up to actually being around other people, Dean would cook him dinner instead.

It’s not as though they spent every evening together, but they were together more often than not. And, per both their preferences, they tended to spend more time away from Cas’s family than with. There was still the occasional family dinner or fundraiser where Castiel would be forced to attend, and Dean would accompany him, of course. But overall, he found his family much more bearable with Dean in the balance.

Between work, his family, and Dean, Castiel’s schedule was fairly full. But, even busy as he was, he knew better than to ignore the invitation when it came.

The text was short, to the point: “My place 2nite?”

Cas rolled his eyes at the question mark, like he actually had a choice here. And why couldn’t his cousin just type out full words, like every other normal adult?

“Of course. I’ll have to cancel some plans first,” he texted back quickly.

“Bring the eye candy w u. I’m dyin 2 meet him.”

Cas sighed heavily and shook his head, but answered in the affirmative. He brought up his texts with Dean, smiling at the little heart eyes emoji Dean had sent just that morning. He considered working up to it, maybe hedging around the topic, but decided the direct, one-text approach would be best.

“Hello, Dean. I hope your day is going well. Can we change our plans for tonight? My cousin wants to see us.”

The reply was quick in reaching him. “Sure. Where does Meg wanna go?”

Cas smirked as he typed. “This isn’t Meg.”

—-

Dean didn’t know what he’d expected when Cas had said that they were going to see his cousin that wasn’t Meg...but it definitely hadn’t been this. In all his times hanging out with Cas and Anna, he never would’ve pegged them as the Club type. And yet, here they both were, dressed appropriately with Anna in a skintight gold minidress and Cas in black skinny jeans, a tight white V-cut t-shirt, and a light grey blazer. Meg had tagged along with them, but Dean somehow wasn’t as surprised about her fitting into this crowd with her form-fitting black dress.

But Cas— in those jeans that hugged his ass the right way and a blazer that accentuated his sharp jaw and broad shoulders... goddamn, did he look hot.

Dean couldn’t keep his hands off Cas as they walked up to the front door of the club—only to be ushered right in past the waiting line. He glared at the few guys and girls who spent a couple seconds too long admiring Cas, tightening his hold on Cas’s hand as he followed the others inside. He didn’t let himself wonder too long about when he’d become so possessive over a mark.

He did draw up short when they actually got inside the club itself. From the outside, it had looked like a plain brick building; inside, it was a mass of people shouting and music thrumming. A throng of people mobbed the open dance floor, jumping and grinding and laughing.

Around the dance floor, several seating areas of varying styles and sizes were already packed full, from couples to large groups. Bars lined the three walls at the back of the room, with multiple bartenders shouting and performing at each one as they poured drinks and flipped bottles back and forth between them. Throughout the room, there were tables with poles attached and dancers prancing around, winking and flirting with the people below them.

Above all this at the back half of the room, he could see an enclosed second story that was less crowded, but it wasn’t immediately obvious how to access that part of the club. It must be some kind of VIP area. There was one corner of the second story that was open to the main room, the DJ booth, where a short guy wearing giant headphones jumped around enthusiastically.

Dean never would’ve guessed that any of Cas’s family would be involved in an establishment like this, much less own it. Obviously, given the family’s connection to Lucifer, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that someone in the family had to be involved in a place like this. But to see it firsthand...

It was loud, crowded, with people shoving against the four of them as they shuffled their way through. Bright neon lights lined the bars and floors while strobe lights flashed down from the ceiling. It was the exact opposite of what Dean had come to expect from Cas and his family.

Castiel tapped Dean’s arm to get his attention. He pointed towards the DJ booth and leaned up to yell in Dean’s ear, “That’s Gabriel up there.”

Dean glanced back up with renewed interest, but now he could barely catch a glimpse of the top of someone’s head bobbing along to the beat. With all of the lights, he’d be hard pressed to really identify anyone in this crowd, much less someone so far away.

Cas and the others seemed to know where they were going, so Dean just followed them. They wove through the pulsing crowd on the floor, and after a moment, Dean saw that they were headed towards a staircase in the back corner, a staircase that led up to the VIP area.

The stairs were roped off with a burly security guard manning them, but he didn’t give their group so much as a glance before lifting the rope and waving them up. Both of the girls smiled and giggled at the tall imposing man, while Cas simply clapped a hand to his shoulder as they passed.

Dean kept a hand at Cas’s waist as they climbed the stairs, his thumb rubbing up under his t-shirt. His eyes a shocking blue beneath the club lights, Cas turned to smirk down at him. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He was gorgeous, right here, like this, with the bright lights reflecting off his sharp cheekbones and dark hair.

Was it any wonder that so many people had stopped to stare at him as they’d navigated the crowded floor below? And even up above, when they reached the VIP area, the door had no sooner closed them off from the loud club below than they were surrounded by some of the other girls who were already in attendance. Both Anna and Meg had been pushed aside, but neither seemed surprised. So this was apparently the norm when out with Cas?

“Hey, Castiel,” one of the girls cooed. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”

Cas smiled blandly, his grip on Dean’s hand as tight as ever.

“And who’s your handsome friend?” another girl asked, stepping up to Dean’s other side. Like none of them could see the way he and Cas were holding hands?

Well, Dean couldn’t really blame the girls for falling over Cas like they were, but he could send them a clear message.

Using the hands clasped between them, Dean pulled Cas back to him, smiling wickedly as he ducked down to claim his boyfriend’s lips in a heavy kiss. Cas gasped into his mouth, and Dean took immediate advantage of the opening. He groaned as he slid an arm around Cas’s waist, pulling him tighter against him as Cas’s free hand came to rest against his chest.

When they broke apart, Cas’s lips were swollen and red, as were Dean’s. Castiel huffed out a laugh as he bent up to whisper in Dean’s ear, “If I’d known it would get such a reaction, I would’ve brought you here weeks ago...”

Dean smirked and reached up to tug at Cas’s plump lower lip with his thumb. “Are you trying to kill me?” Cas nipped at the pad of his thumb, his smile downright wicked.

Before Dean could say anything else, like maybe suggest they sneak into a bathroom somewhere, a loud cry from the other end of the room interrupted them.

“My oh my, Cassie!”

They both turned to find a short, grinning man standing at the other end of the VIP area. Dean glanced around to find that most of the girls had fled back to their dates and groups, while Meg and Anna had taken a pair of seats along the wall. They both smirked at the flustered men who were still wrapped around each other.

“Gabriel,” Cas replied as he gently extricated himself from Dean’s hold. He still kept a firm grip on Dean’s hand as he tugged him over to meet the interrupter. “This is my boyfriend Dean. Dean, my cousin Gabriel.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel,” Dean greeted the shorter man.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Dean-o!” Gabriel responded with a cheeky wink. “And call me Gabe.” He held out a hand toward some free seats near Meg and Anna. “Let’s have a seat.”

Once they’d all sat and given their orders to a waitress, Gabe turned back to the couple, who were sitting as close as they could possibly manage on the low-slung couch.

“So you’re the Dean!” Gabe cried. “God, after hearing the fits you’ve put Hester through, I just had to meet ya.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I swear, I didn’t mean to send her into any fits.” He turned to smile softly down at Cas. “I just wanted to make sure she knew I was here to stay.”

Cas’s cheeks heated, somehow still shy after all that they’d done together, and Dean couldn’t help but steal a quick peck on the lips.

“How sickeningly adorable,” Gabe cooed.

“You have no fucking idea,” Meg muttered with a glare at the couple. “I was happy living my single life, but now they gotta throw it up in my face every fucking time I see them.”

Cas shrugged. “You’ll find someone, if you really want.”

Meg rolled her eyes, as did Anna. “Spoken like someone who has a sure thing going home with them at the end of the night.”

Dean grinned unrepentantly. “Just don’t call me easy.”

“God, I certainly hope you are,” Castiel murmured, surprising Dean—and apparently the others too.

“This,” Anna spoke up with a pointed finger between the couple, “This is what I’m talking about, Gabe!”

Gabe laughed and shook his head. “What the hell have you done to my sweet, innocent cousin, Dean?”

“Well, if you must know—“ Dean started, but Castiel clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Not really that important,” he explained. Right then, the waitress returned with their drinks, drawing everyone’s attention. It was just enough for Dean to act.

“Hey!” Cas yelped, jerking his hand back. “Gross!”

“Did you really just lick his hand?” Meg asked, her eyes narrowing. Dean’s smile was smug as he shrugged. At a glare from Cas, though, he pulled Cas’s hand back to press an apologetic kiss to the palm.

Meg, Anna, and Gabe rolled their eyes in unison at the fond look that passed between Cas and Dean.

“Disgusting,” Meg muttered. She turned and tapped Anna on the knee. “Come on, let’s go dance.”

They stood, drinks in hand, and sauntered back towards the door.

“Be safe! Make wise choices!” Gabe called after them, earning a flip of the bird over Meg’s shoulder. He turned back to Dean and Cas with a grin, “So, tell me everything! How did you meet?”

Two drinks and several stories later, Gabe suddenly jumped to his feet. “Oh shit! I gotta get back out to the booth. But look, I wanna talk to you again before you take off, ok?” He looked directly at Cas as he said this, and there was no misinterpreting his meaning: alone, without Dean.

Cas sighed but nodded. “I’ll make sure to catch you before we go.”

“Excellent!” Gabe clapped Dean on the shoulder, tightening his grip for a moment. Dean grimaced but gave no other indication of discomfort as Gabe squeezed the damn feeling out of his shoulder. And then Gabe winked one more time and spun away to return to his booth.

Dean had never actually had to use a bug on Cas yet, but there was a first for everything. So later, when they were out on the dance floor, grinding together and pressing hungry kisses to cheeks and lips, Dean slipped the little device under the collar of Cas’s blazer with one hand while he pretended to feel him up with the other.

The device sent audio straight to his phone to be recorded, so he didn’t actually have to listen to the conversation while they were having it. Still, he slipped out a back door to “make a phone call” while Cas and Gabe escaped to Gabe’s office to “catch up.”

He held the phone up to his ear, listening to the rustling and clinking as the cousins settled in.

“So he seems neat,” Gabe observed, slightly muffled and distant.

Dean smiled as he heard Cas’s huff, already able to picture the adorable blush that spread over those cheeks. “Yeah, he really is.”

“And hungry, from the looks of it,” Gabe said, his tone nothing short of lascivious.

Cas groaned, “Oh my god, just tell me what you dragged me away from my gorgeous boyfriend for, asswipe.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. That was the most flippant he’d ever heard Cas speak to a family member. In fact, he’d never heard Cas speak like that...ever. Whoever this Cas was in the room—it wasn’t the Cas that Dean knew.

“Straight to business, I like it!” Gabe exclaimed. “Listen, Lucy has some extra goodies he needs to get into the country, and—“

“Why can’t you just do it?” Cas interrupted with a long suffering sigh.

“Because—and I was about to get to this if you hadn’t interrupted me—I’m on another watch list. Some low-level IRS pencil pusher,” the disparagement dripping from his tone was almost comical, “has tagged me for some drinks I brought in from—actually, it’s not important where from. What is important is that everything I’m importing is being monitored.”

Cas sighed heavily. “Why can’t he just get Crowley to do it?”

Dean’s brow furrowed. Cas knew Crowley? Crowley was a low-level drug pusher who’d managed to slip by their agency again and again, but if he was dealing with the likes of Lucifer, maybe he wasn’t so low-level after all... Dean’s attention was pulled back to the conversation when Gabe spoke.

“Because they’ve been in hot water ever since you,” Cas must’ve made a face because Gabe repeated emphatically, “yes, you! You left Crowley high and dry.”

“Hey!” There was rustling as Cas shifted. “I never wanted to date that dickwad. Lucifer was the one who was all gung-ho for us getting together and shit.”

“Of course he was!” Gabe burst out, but his voice was farther than before, like Cas had moved away from him. “You would’ve solidified the alliance between them!”

Cas groaned. “What the hell are you even saying? Do you hear yourself? I’m not some bitch to be traded and sold!”

Silence fell, broken only by Cas’s heavy breathing. Dean had to tamp down the anger that spiked in him at the thought of Cas being shoved at some—

Gabe finally spoke again, this time so softly Dean could hardly make out the words. It sounded like, “I know... I’m—I’m sorry.”

There was shuffling again, and then when Gabe spoke, his voice was closer. “Just this one time, Cassie.”  
When he responded, Cas’s voice was soft...soft but sharp. “You know, they all wonder why I stay with Hester, why I let her push me around, her docile little bitch. I can see it in Dean’s eyes, every time we spend time with the family.” Dean had thought he’d hidden it well enough, but apparently not. He waited as Cas took a deep breath. A pause. “But you know why, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Lucifer wouldn’t dare challenge her.”

“Exactly,” Cas hissed. “Because she may be an overbearing, controlling bitch,” he spit the word out, “but she doesn’t make me do anything illegal to prove my loyalty. She doesn’t try to sell me off to some disgusting thug.”

“Cassie,” Gabriel pleaded. “We just need—“

“I don’t care what it is. My answer is no,” Cas’s voice was firm, unwavering. “I finally have a good thing with someone, with Dean,” Dean flinched as he heard his own name. “And I’m not going to endanger that, not when Lucifer could have any of his thousands of buddies do it instead.”

A long pause, and then the quiet, “I understand,” from Gabe.

Cas let out a heavy sigh. “Thank you, cousin. Please give our uncle my sincerest regrets, but I cannot risk this. Not now.”

More shuffling, and then Dean heard the door open, meaning that Cas was headed back down. He exited the password-protected app and pocketed his phone as he rushed back inside to wait for Cas at the bar where they’d parted earlier.

When Cas slid up next to him, he smiled at Dean, but the smile was tight, stressed. “Ready to go?”

Dean felt the guilt swirling in his gut at the realization that he was going to have to push Cas back into a world he was so desperately trying to escape. It was the only way Dean would ever get to Lucifer. And yet, seeing Cas now, seeing the stress and fear in his eyes after merely discussing his past... It was enough to make Dean want to abandon the entire mission and drag Cas far, far away. Far enough away that no one could ever reach them, not Cas's family, not Dean's boss. But that wasn't really an option here, so instead Dean decided to do what he did best. He might not be able to take Cas away from all this, but he could sure as hell help him forget all of it. 

“God yes!” Dean growled as he pulled Cas into a hungry kiss. He brought his hands up to clutch at the back of Cas’s neck, slipping one finger underneath the collar to retrieve the bug. He pulled away just enough to murmur, “Can’t wait to get you out of these fucking jeans.”

Dean could see the hunger that sparked in Cas’s bright eyes as he yanked him back down into another kiss. When they parted, panting harshly past swollen lips, both unabashedly hard where they were tightly pressed together, Cas grinned and let Dean lead him from the club, his body plastered tight against Dean’s broad back. They hailed a cab then spent the entire ride back to Cas’s place with Cas practically straddling Dean in the back seat. When they arrived, the cab driver had to call for their attention twice before Dean tore his mouth away from the bruise he’d been sucking into Cas’s collarbone. Dean smirked at the disgruntled driver and handed him a fifty with a hurried “Keep the change!” as Cas dragged him from the car.

They’d just barely made it through the front door before Cas was back on Dean, crowding him against the wall and attacking his neck with nips and licks.

“Goddamn, Cas,” Dean breathed. His head fell back with a soft thud as his eyes slid shut. Cas shoved one of his thick thighs between Dean’s to grind against him. Dean’s hands fell to his hips, guiding him as they rolled against each other hungrily. “Just like that, Baby.”

Cas gasped, clutching at Dean’s hair as their mouths slammed back together. “I want you inside me,” he groaned. “Dean, I need yo—” he broke off into a long moan.

“Need it, huh?” Dean teased as one of his hands reached down between them to unbutton the tight jeans, allowing the other slid into the back, down his crack to his hole. “Need me filling up that slutty hole of yours?”

Cas’s head slumped forward into Dean’s neck, his mouth hot and wet against the warm skin there as he moaned loudly. He rolled his hips, caught between the delicious friction of their cocks grinding together through their jeans and that finger teasing at him.

“Just get your cock in me already,” he whined. He grabbed Dean by the collar and yanked him into a kiss as he spun them around and started walking them back toward the couch. Somehow, between the kissing and the grinding, they didn’t quite make it to the couch.

Instead, Cas had Dean flat on his back, naked in the middle of the living room as he sucked him down in one swift movement. Dean honest to God keened as Cas began bobbing up and down, coating him with his spit. Dean’s hips bucked, but Cas just kept his mouth tight, absorbing the movements with each bob.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Dean grabbed Cas by the hair and yanked him off, pulling him back up to his mouth for another hungry kiss. While he had Cas distracted with his tongue, he reached down to tug those sinfully tight jeans off. He ripped Cas’s blazer and shirt off and tossed them off to the side. Both men ignored the loud crash as the centerpiece on the coffee table toppled over, spilling decorative stones everywhere. Once Cas was blessedly naked, Dean slapped his ass cheek, and Cas moaned.

“Bring that ass up here,” Dean commanded, and Cas eagerly shifted so that he was over Dean. He immediately set back to sucking on Dean while Dean worked on loosening Cas up with his fingers and tongue. He knew that they had some lube in the bedroom, but neither seemed inclined to pause long enough to go grab it. So spit and fingers it was. Cas didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he groaned more enthusiastically every time Dean added a finger or shifted his angle.

When Dean had three fingers in Cas’s hole, when he knew he wouldn’t last another second of that talented mouth sucking on his shaft or nibbling at his balls, he whispered roughly, “You want me inside you?”

Cas scrambled off and turned himself around to face Dean again. He grinned manically as he reached down to grab Dean’s cock and guide it to his hole.

“Ready for this, Lover?” he breathed as the head caught on the rim. And then he was pushing down, taking Dean inch by inch, moaning like he was made for this. Dean could only watch him, watch his beautiful face scrunched up, the light sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow, the way his mouth fell open as he pushed himself down further. 

“Cas, so beautiful, Baby,” Dean bit out. It felt different without the lube, harsher, but neither of them cared. “Cas, I need...”

Cas’s blue eyes fluttered open and he smiled so gently, so openly, as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “I’ll take care of you, Dean,” and then he was moving, panting as he bounced up and down on Dean’s cock, his hands on Dean’s chest, his fingernails digging into his firm skin.

Dean groaned harshly, his eyes drawn down to where Cas’s dick bobbed between them. He reached up to take him in hand, pumping to match Cas’s increasingly erratic thrusts. With eyes locked between them, they watched as they dragged each other closer and closer to their orgasms.

“M’ close, Sweetheart,” Dean gasped out, and Cas nodded. Dean pumped Cas’s cock until his boyfriend seized up, crying out Dean’s name as he came. He almost collapsed onto Dean’s chest, but caught himself on his hands.

“Keep going,” he mumbled. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Dean grasped onto Cas’s sweaty hips and began pumping up into him, marveling at each little hitch of breath and moan that escaped. Faster, harder, with Cas screaming out his name louder at each thrust.

“I’m coming,” Dean groaned, and then his hips shoved up one final time and he was spilling inside Cas. His hips moved once more, twice, three times as he rode out his orgasm. And then his hands fell back to the carpet as Cas pulled off of him and toppled on the floor next to him.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped out once he’d caught his breath again. “Holy fuck.”

Cas chuckled and curled up next to Dean to press a kiss to his neck. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

Dean stroked a lazy hand down Cas’s spine, savoring the shiver it pulled from the other man. “Thank you,” he whispered as he pressed a gentle kiss to Cas’s forehead.

Cas grinned and reached up for a quick peck. “I think I’ll be pulling that outfit out a lot more.”

“You’d fucking better!” Dean teased. He shifted, letting out a grunt as the carpet rubbed against his back. “As hot as this was, I don’t think I can stay down here much longer.”

Cas giggled and sat up. “Carpet burn?”

“Among other things, yes.”

Cas stood then helped Dean up. They looked around at the mess of clothes and spilled decorations, glanced at each other.

“Tomorrow?” Dean asked and Cas shrugged, “Tomorrow.”

A smirk lifted the corner of Cas’s mouth. “Race you to the shower?” And then he was racing toward the bathroom, naked as you please and laughing about it, with Dean right behind him.

\---

Once he was sure that Cas was asleep, Dean slipped out to the bathroom, his phone in hand. He typed out the quick text for Victor: “Found our link.”

Short, to the point, but Victor would know what it meant. Dean would call in tomorrow to give the full report, but this should satisfy the senior agent’s need for constant check-ins.

Dean didn’t let himself consider his actions of the night—his jealousy for Cas, his hesitance at pulling Cas back into his family’s business, his need to protect the beautiful man from his own dark past, the way he really had lost himself in their sex. He couldn’t let himself examine any of it too closely, because that would bring up some dark questions, questions that Dean wasn’t prepared to answer. 

And yet they were still there, haunting him, prodding him. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Cas’s blue eyes, wide and hungry and desperate as he’d ridden him that night… Dean turned on the faucet and splashed cold water across his face to shove the thoughts away. When he looked back up at himself in the mirror, he almost hated who he saw. 

“Just a little longer, Winchester. You’re almost done,” he reminded himself softly. For some reason, the reminder didn’t help him feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, All! Sorry about the long wait on this story. I was, for a short while, working two jobs, with pretty much no time off to write. However, I have recently come upon some health problems, and have been given some time off both jobs. So I've decided with this free time to get this story FINISHED! So, I may not post all the chapters as I write them (you know, pacing and such) but I will be spending these next couple days working solely on this fic... and probably watchin the Harry Potter movies again (what? I've been in a mood to watch them). Anyways, please leave comments and feedback, as that is always encouraging! Much love!!


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